


Full Circle

by AbbyDebeaupre



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Bree gives birth, Canon Compliant, Jamie and John talk about Fraser babies, Jamie has much to be thankful for, Most of all his wife, One Shot, River Run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:23:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyDebeaupre/pseuds/AbbyDebeaupre
Summary: Jamie and Lord John bond after Brianna gives birth to a son, and Claire tells Jamie about her first night with Bree.





	Full Circle

**River Run May, 1770**

A small movement caught the corner of John’s eye, so fleeting at first he thought he’d imagined it. But no, he’d know that glint of Fraser red anywhere. What was Jamie doing on his balcony? John waited a moment, watchful. Fraser was kneeling, hands outstretched, head bent clearly in prayer of some kind and he was thrown instantly back to a long ago night at Helwater. In the chapel where Geneva’s body lay in repose awaiting her funeral the next morning, Jamie prostrate on that cold stone floor, face soaked wet with sweat or tears, John hadn’t been sure at first. The deep emotion running through Fraser visible for all his physical stillness. Then, as now, John recognized the pose.  Penance. Supplication. Humility. Imploring God to grant understanding and seeking forgiveness. 

 

Only later, many months later, was John able to confirm his suspicions regarding why Jamie had been sitting vigil over Geneva’s coffin. Jamie hadn’t, of course, acknowledged Willie as his own-- though anyone with eyes could see the truth of that fact at once. And he’d never, in all the time he’d known him, discussed his relationship with Geneva Dunsany. 

 

Suddenly, Jamie sat down hard on his ass, leaning his back against the rail, eyes unfocused and brimming with tears. Cold dread spread through John as his mind ran through all of the possible reasons Jamie was here now. John reached for the whisky on the sideboard and poured each of them two fingers. He crossed through the doorway, Jamie barely registering his presence but accepting the glass gratefully and swallowing most of it in one gulp, shuddering out a breath as it flowed down his throat. John’s mouth had gone quite, quite dry and, looking for his own liquid courage, he followed suit.

 

Brianna, that magnificent, vital life spirit—had the birth gone horribly wrong? Was she-- could she be? 

 

“Brianna…” John whispered, afraid of asking, of knowing, “is she---” He found that he was unable to finish the thought. He watched as Jamie’s surprised eyes met his. Then a small upturn of the lips helped him find his breath once more. 

 

“No-- oh no, John, she is,” at this Fraser’s face broke into a real smile, warm as the afternoon sun. “Both she and the child are well. A boy. Braw and fussy, red as a strawberry. I’d stopped in to bring you word, but ye werena here. I didna mean to intrude on your private chambers, I just-- needed a moment to collect myself and the balcony….” Jamie trailed off, face flushing a light red. 

 

“It’s fine, J-Jamie” He hated that his voice quivered addressing the man so. “You should have come and found me instead of waiting out the birth in an agony of anticipation,” John told him, “at least I could have distracted you with a game of chess.” 

 

“I ken that, John, and if I had need, I wouldna have hesitated.” Jamie told him. Warmth bloomed in John’s body at those words, at the underlying recognition of their friendship. “But, as it happened, my lassie wouldna let go my hand long enough for me to leave her side.” At this Jamie held up his right hand which still bore red marks and the imprint of nails along the back and palm. 

 

“You were present for the birth?” John asked, astonished. 

 

“Och, aye, and the hours of labor besides. Claire, too.” 

 

“Well, of that I have no doubt whatsoever,” John assured him. “You must have known Claire wouldn’t dare let anything happen to your daughter or the baby.”  

 

“Perhaps, but...my God, it was hard work. Hours of effort and pain.  Erased in a moment with the most amazing feeling when ye hold the bairn in yer hands. Have ye ever seen it, John? A birthing?” Jamie asked. 

 

“Well..actually, yes?” John told him. “My cousin Olivia gave birth to her son, Cromwell, at my mother’s wedding-- er, her _ third _ wedding-- a few years ago.” 

 

Jamie gave him a sidelong glance upon hearing the baby’s name and John smiled. 

 

“Right, long story that.” He noted, “But Olivia is-- well was-- she died of a fever in the Islands a few years ago-- one of those women who is blessed by short, easy deliveries. There she was in the bell tower, hardly making a sound. My role was confined to basically catching him before he hit the ground. It was done so quickly, she didn’t even interrupt the ceremony. Have you? I mean, before today?” 

 

Jamie shook his head. He paused and shuddered with great emotion, “My mam died in childbed and the babe, too. But my father kept us out in the fields the whole day and in the barn that night. We never heard….much. Folk talk, but it’s no’ the same. My nephew Ian,” and at this Jamie shut his eyes tight, his loss was still so fresh. John put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. “Well, I was at Lallybroch the same day he was born.  Held him as we hid in an armoire, tried to keep him quiet when a pack of redcoats paraded into my sister’s home looking for Red Jamie.” John smiled at that and Jamie shook his head to let him know nothing had happened. “I was so scarrit, I remember clutching him to my chest and praying he’d no’ start squawking and giving us away.” 

 

John rose and retrieved the bottle, pouring them each more, and sitting back down shoulder to shoulder with Jamie as they drank some more. 

 

“We--Claire and I, we…. lost a bairn. A long time ago.” Jamie confessed.

 

“I know,” John said, surprising the Scot, “in Paris.” 

 

Jamie nodded, “I wasna there...wi’ Claire. It took many weeks afore I was released from the Bastille...and wi’ Brianna, I told you how that was, aye?” Jamie tilted his head and raised his brow.

 

John found himself nodding, then he took a huge breath, “and then there was Geneva.” John couldn’t look at Jamie directly, but even his sidelong look could clearly see the pain etched on his face. 

 

He wouldn’t push it. Jamie had never divulged the circumstances behind Willie’s conception nor the part he played in dispatching Lord Ellesmere, for that matter. John only had vague suspicions regarding the former, but Lord Dunsany had given him all the details of the latter.  The coroner’s inquest, however, had officially determined the lord’s death was by misadventure and John renewed his determination that Willie would never hear the truth of how the man died and prayed he would never find out that he wasn’t the true son of the Earl. 

 

For the space of a full minute, John didn’t think Jamie would respond. Then he huffed out a breath. 

 

“Mayhap ye feel I owe you an explanation, John.” Jamie said quietly, still not looking at his friend. “The lass was reckless, spoilt...but also clever, beautiful, determined. Geneva has surely paid for her sins and I have tried to atone for my own but the how and the why of it will rest wi’ me in my grave for I willna unburden my soul at the cost of yours. There is not a thing I can say that doesna make either me or her appear the worse in your eyes.” At this Jamie turned and grasped John’s forearm tightly, allowing John to feel the sincerity of his words. “I would have you look upon Willie’s face wi’ a pure heart, as you have done from the very start. I spent many a year shrouded in anger and confusion, lost.” 

 

“Not anymore, though?” John risked covering Jamie’s hand with his one.  

 

“No.” Jamie was looking at John’s hand over his own. “If I have had burdens in my life, I have also had blessings and ne’er more so than today.” 

 

John patted Jamie’s hand lightly, letting go and transferred his almost empty glass into it, raised it and waited for Jamie to do the same. 

 

“Then, best you be off to celebrate with your better half….Grandpa!” At this John chortled, tickled to his toes. 

 

Jamie stared at him for several seconds, then laughed, touching his glass to John’s and downing the rest in one long gulp. 

 

He went in search of his wife, finding her out in the gardens, staring at the ebbing light of the sunset. He pulled her to him at once, her back fitted tight to his chest, notching his chin against her shoulder. Her hand came up to cup his head. 

 

“All’s well?” 

 

“All is perfect.” She answered. His arms squeezed her even closer. 

 

“Sassenach” Jamie’s voice was strained almost to a whisper. Mhmmm? Came her dreamy, exhausted response. “I always thought men in battle were courageous. And men inflate themselves by saying they must protect their women because women are the weaker sex.”

 

“And?” Claire asked, though it was a teasing tone, for she knew. Anyone watching a woman struggle in childbirth came away with new understanding.  Jamie snorted in response and turned her to face him, Claire almost looked away reading the sorrow in his eyes. 

 

“I told you once seeing you in such pain would take more strength than I had?” Jamie held her face up to his, feeling her small nod of acknowledgement. “But to see it-- really see it-- how hard it truly is, how long and….. if anything had happened to them…..and then to know you had to face all that alone. I will never forgi----” Claire’s finger shot to his lips, stilling him at once. 

 

“It is different, then.” She said quietly. “There are better ways to manage the pain, interventions and surgeries that can save lives. Brianna and I were  _ fine _ .” She told him firmly. Jamie just shook his head and the tears came. 

 

“No, that’s no’ what....How did you do it, Sassenach?” A skitter of unease raced through her. 

 

“Do what?” Her mouth felt like chalk. 

 

“Go through all that pain only to...lose Faith. It was enough to be beside you at  Fontainbleau and I didna  _ want _ to talk of it...and neither did you but I didna realize how it must have been. I was spared all of it-- both times. Why did ye no’ tell me?” 

 

“It’s impossible to tell someone what it is like. The words, well, you know I don’t have a gift for them anyway and, even if I could find the right ones, it’s still too big, too much.” Jamie held her to his body, letting their hearts beat together in silence for a time. “I would have given anything in the world to have you with me in those moments.” Her small, tight voice wheezed out. Claire had done her best to push away the memories of L’Hopital, the terror and the grief and she didn’t want to dwell on it now, either. “And when I held Brianna for the first time, you were.” She said simply. 

 

“Was it...did she look like Faith?” Jamie whispered, as if not sure he wanted to ask. Claire shook her head. 

 

“No. She was a noisy baby. Little bleating sounds- not exactly crying but just...making her presence known. The sight of those tiny fists waiving in the air. She was solid and warm and she filled my arms. It was so reassuring... the weight of her. We lay curled around each other that first night, just the two of us. I would never speak of you again until after Frank died, but _ that _ night, I told her everything I could remember about Brian and Ellen Fraser. Her aunt and uncle. You. I’d been holding my breath for months, praying for her safe arrival. It healed me, to look down and see her nursing and kiss those strawberry curls. And I cried. For the first time since I lost you. Oh, lord, I cried so hard I lost my voice until the next afternoon. You were right to make me go, damn you. I knew it watching her but oh, how  _ wrong _ it felt! That  _ you _ didn’t get the same second chance. To hold your own child to your heart and know...the  _ rightness  _ of it. Then you told me about Willie.” Claire was crying now and it crushed him to see her so. 

 

“I am so verra sorry, Claire.” He managed to get out past the lump lodged in his throat. 

 

“Don’t you dare be sorry for that!” She said sternly. “He is your  _ son.  _ A part of you and all the more precious to me because, despite the fact that you hold your sorrows tight inside of you, I  _ know  _ how you hurt. The nightmares we don’t talk about, the years of solitude and loneliness you endured. You have  _ no  _ idea what it means to me to know you had the joy of him, the gift of holding your own baby. I hope it helped you a little when you thought of Faith and Bree.” Claire drew him to her and kissed him, her lips could no more lie to him than her words and he knew she meant it. Humbled and raw with emotion, Jamie took her hands in his gripping them tightly. “I would do it  _ all  _ again, even knowing.  _ Every last minute _ .” Claire told him, pulling back and searching his eyes. “Wouldn’t you?” She listened to him breathing, trying to gain control. 

 

Finally he said, “I would do anything to have spared ye the hurt of it, Sassenach.” Not an answer, Claire noticed but she let that one go, seeing how hard he was fighting to pull them back to safer ground, needing to let the past go and look to the future now. 

 

“To see Bree so strong. She has more heart in her wee pinky than me in my whole hand.” Jamie looked Claire up and down, thinking. “And the wee cub, did you no’ feel it there in the room when he arrived?” 

 

“What?” Claire asked, receiving a mmphm in return. 

 

“Come,  _ mo nighean donn _ , ye did, too, aye? That wee spark in him.” 

 

Not only had Claire felt it, she’d  _ seen _ it. For this child had a glow, like the auras Master Raymond had told her about. Not just red or blue but of both and green besides.  

 

“I did. I thought perhaps that was just because he’s ours,” Claire smiled at him then. Jamie’s breath caught. 

 

“Our grandson! Perfect from his ten wee toes to the tippy top of his ginger hair and no doubt about it.” He kissed her then, hard and wanting, making her legs quiver dangerously. His mouth fitted around her ear. “I would, too, love. All of it.” He told her, answering her earlier ask. Then he was leading her back inside, “Come, Grannie Fraser, this auld man needs ye something fierce.” 

 


End file.
